Hope

I’m at a loss for words. Truly, painfully speechless.

Camille’s confession hangs in the air between us like smoke—cloying, impossible to wave away, sinking deep into my lungs until it’s all I taste. He sits at the edge of the bed, that unreadable mask on his face, the one that always leaves me scrambling to understand what version of him I’m speaking to. But beneath the calm façade, I saw something else. Relief. Hope. Possessiveness sharpened into something nearly tender.

He wants to raise my child with me.

My stomach twists. My wolf curls tight inside me, ears back, trembling. Danger… wrong… wrong male… wrong bond… She distrusts him...